


Rick and Wade

by ClothesBeam



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Season 3 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 03:00:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11819850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClothesBeam/pseuds/ClothesBeam
Summary: Someone hurting on the inside meets someone who’s hurting on the outside.





	Rick and Wade

Rick was in the spaceship car, seat tilted back as far as it would go and a half full glass bottle held loosely in his right hand. He’d been staring up at the stars for so long he was no longer registering what was in front of him. But the numbness and emptiness were preferable to the pain and overwhelmingness of infinity.

His phone vibrated steadily against the thin, worn padding of the passenger seat. Rick knew it’d be either Morty or Beth, and wasn’t really up to interacting with either of them right now. He glanced down blearily, peering into the mouth of his bottle and trying to determine how much he had left. His liver might need some extra help with this lot…

There was a thud against the bonnet and Rick flinched, nearly hard enough to spill what was in the bottle, but fortunately for him it was getting close enough to empty to not slosh over. His head lolled to the side and he squinted into the darkness.

A figure slowly got to his feet outside, rubbing both his head and ass in mild discomfort. The suit was the first hint, but comparing the huge dent in his car to how little harm had been done to the muscle-bound man was the real cincher. Rick stabbed at the button to wind down the window next to him, missing twice before finally getting anywhere.

“W-what the fuckity fuck, Vindicator?” he slurred out, not quite able to articulate the question he actually wanted to ask.

The man seemed to squint at him in return, somehow managing to not look particularly impressed through the mask. “If you’re not Doc Brown, then this must be cheap rip off universe,” he eventually replied.

“That’s, urrp, a pretty vague description,” Rick grumbled. “B-besides, your universe is just as i-insignificant as this one. None of it matters, ok, n-none of it.”

The spandex-clad man slid off his bonnet and stumbled around to the passenger door. He fell into the seat, leaving a smear of blood from the wound in his side, but it wouldn’t be the first of that kind of stain Rick had ever had to attempt to wash out.

“If it’s where you live, doesn’t that make it important to you?”

Rick glanced away, bringing his bottle of booze a little closer to his chest. “I can’t believe it does. I already fucked up m-my original one.”

The phone started buzzing again from where it was trapped under the stranger’s thigh. He shifted to look down at it, wincing as his torso contorted slightly.

“Aren’t you gonna get that?” he asked, holding the phone out. He placed it in Rick’s hand, but he simply let it fall from between his fingers. It came to rest somewhere between the accelerator and the brakes. It continued to buzz pitifully.

“Nope,” Rick muttered, taking another sip of his drink. The spirit burned as it slid down his throat. He looked around for a change in topic as the phone awkwardly continued to vibrate. “You doing ok?” he asked, pointing a shaking finger at the man’s injury.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, had a bit of a scuffle, sorry about falling on your um… car? It’s kind of drowned out by the sting of my rather unique skin condition.”

Rick squinted at him again before reaching over to the back seat with a grunt. He slid down further in his seat but somehow managed to reach the powdered numbing crystal he’d had rolling around on the floor for the past few months.

“Chronic huh? S-slightly easier to deal with…” He looked down at what remained of his drink mournfully, but he needed something to dilute it. Rick sprinkled a little powder into the bottle and swished it around before offering it to the masked man. “That’ll… do somethin’,” he mumbled.

“Something good, I hope,” the masked man quipped. But he took the bottle, rolled his mask up over his nose, and took a sip anyway.

It took Rick a moment to realise the mottled skin wasn’t a trick of the light and his state of inebriation. He pointed his shaking finger again, not quite able to get the words that’d explain what was racing through his mind out, as ever. “T-that’s what hurts ya?”

He shrugged in response, failing to be completely nonchalant. “Yeah, all over. It’s cancer, literally.”

“There’s a u-universe where they can instantly heal b-broken legs with a serum. I-I can get you there, you can get a cure,” he babbled, pulling the portal gun out of his belt.

The masked man gave him a concerned look and quickly took the gun from his hands. “Maybe we should do that when you’re _not_ drunk off your ass?”

Rick made a face and brought his hand up beside his head, opening and closing it in a crude imitation of someone speaking. When his phone began to vibrate again he flinched.

The masked man licked his lips and tilted his head. “Whoever that is seems to be real concerned about you.”

“Doesn’t matter, n-nothing does.”

“Some things are incurable,” the spandex-clad man admitted slowly. “But some things can make it feel better,” he added, tilting the bottle he’d been given. “And some of those things are better for you than others.”

Rick stared at him for a long moment. The phone stopped vibrating, then immediately started up again. Rick sighed loudly and used his foot to bring it closer before stretching out his arm to pick it up in his hand.

“Why am I taking advice from a spandex-clad Vindicator?”

The man snorted and took another swig. “I took advice from a mad scientist and it didn’t turn out so bad… this time.”

Rick slid his thumb over the green circle on the phone’s screen.

“Morty?”

**Author's Note:**

> Well... we all know the real question is w-what the fuckity fuck kind of cross over is this?


End file.
